Wake the Hollow Read online

  The afternoon grows dark and cold fast. I’ll be caught in this part of town at nightfall if I don’t leave soon. But I need to see Betty Anne, ask her a few questions about my mom. I scuttle off the porch and head down the uneven sidewalk until I reach her yellow house five doors down. Behind me, Coco sits by my house, watching me go.

  “I’ll be back for you. Don’t worry.” I’ll have to ask Bram if he can take care of the cat for now, since Nina’s face will swell up like a cantaloupe if she comes into contact with any cat, cat hair, cat dander, cat anything. Hopefully, Jonathan won’t mind.

  Betty Anne’s grass has been recently cut. There’s no car in the driveway, and the porch light is on in full daylight, as though she went out and anticipated coming home late. Still, I’ll ring the doorbell, just in case.

  Betty Anne might know where Mami’s stuff is. I swallow my nerves and walk up the porch steps, ringing the doorbell. The neighbor’s dog barks at the sound. I bite my lip and wait. Deep breath, Mica. Nothing to be nervous about. I wait on the porch for about five minutes, but nobody comes. A voice near me whispers, Inside.

  “Inside?” I ask, looking around. Why don’t the voices ever show themselves?

  Placing my hand against the window, I try to peek into the house, but all I can discern are dark shadows, a yellow light on in the back room where I used to watch TV, and lots of knickknacks on shelves. I tap the window and turn around.

  When I do, there’s a man standing on the sidewalk, the view of his head blocked by the edge of the porch roof. I catch my breath, my hand shaking over my brow. A car hums in the middle of the street. I never even heard anyone drive up. Unnerved, I stoop to get a better look. It’s the same man from the church parking lot. The tall, skinny one who looked like a scarecrow “eloped” from a cornfield, as Irving used to say.

  “Hello? Do I know you?” I steady myself against a column.

  He shades his eyes. “I saw you at that house for sale and thought maybe you knew something about it.” He points to my old house, then pulls a pen and business card from his pocket to jot something down.

  “No, I don’t,” I lie.

  “Are you interested in buying it, too?”

  “No,” I say too quickly. How absurd. Buying back what’s already mine. Sort of.

  “You from around here?” he asks.

  “Yes. Well, no, not really.” Why am I giving him information? I don’t know him from a hole in the wall.

  The pen and card go back into his shirt pocket. His face has a sophisticated quality to it, worldly, like he’s experienced an awful lot in his life, even though he doesn’t look older than a college student. His hair is dark blond and loose, and he hunches over slightly, as if uncomfortable with his height. “I just moved here this summer,” he says. “My temporary lease is up, so I’m looking for a new place.”

  I nod, unsure what to say. Some people give up information so easily. He waits for my response, shrugs, then goes back to his car. “Guess I’ll be going then. Nice meeting you.”

  Ugh, he’s only trying to make conversation, Mica. “Welcome to the neighborhood,” I blurt. There, that’s something. He glances back and smiles in a way that makes my stomach tie into a knot. He’s cute in a non-standard kind of way. Not conventionally gorgeous, but definitely stare-worthy.

  “I’m Dane.” He waves, getting into his car. He closes the door and brings down the window. “Again, it was a pleasure meeting you.” He doesn’t ask for my name. Maybe he figures I won’t tell him anyway. I need to stop being so standoffish and remember I’m in a small town again. People are friendly. I used to be friendly.

  He drives down Maple, elbow sticking out of his window, checking out the neighborhood. Nice guy.

  “Nice meeting you, Dane,” I mumble, watching the car until it disappears around the corner. The sunset has started, so I really need to get a move on. But it’s not until I’ve walked halfway back, thinking about my house and the awful vision I had, Coco hissing at nothing, and the cute, tall guy who appeared out of nowhere, do I realize what Dane-lanky-guy was driving—an old blue Eclipse.

  Chapter Five

  “The schoolmaster is generally a man of some importance in the female circle of a rural neighborhood…of vastly superior taste and accomplishments to the rough country swains…”

  The halls of Tarrytown High teem with busy, chatting students, popping in ear buds, talking about football and HollowEve a few weeks away. I recognize a bunch of them from elementary school. I tried not to wear anything showy this first morning—jeans and two thin layered T-shirts, one pink, one white, plus my new sweater, but I still manage to get stared at.

  Do they recognize me? Do I remind them of that poor Hispanic girl with holes in her sneakers who they used to go to school with a long time ago? Maybe I wore these Manolo Blahnik sandals on purpose to remind myself of how far I’ve come. I’m not oblivious to their whispers and glances.

  In fact, since realizing the blue Eclipse belonged to Dane yesterday, I’m more aware than ever before. Is he following me? Or was he another passenger who got off the train last night like I did? Maybe his was a completely different Eclipse altogether. Then again, I’m tired, and it’s October in Sleepy Hollow. Spooky things just come with the territory.

  Forget the staring people. Just find homeroom.

  Homeroom goes without a hitch, no embarrassing introductions of the new girl. When the bell rings, I set off to find Bram in the courtyard like we agreed this morning. My heart beats like crazy as I stand around scanning for him. Whoever hasn’t noticed me yet definitely will when I meet up with Bram. Finally, I spot his tall, athletic form across the courtyard. He’s talking to friends and waves when he notices me. Damn, he’s gotten cute.

  I smile and sit on a wall to wait for him. A familiar-looking guy chewing a straw with tattoos covering his arms walks his well-used bike past me. He stops, stares at me hard. Here we go. “Burgos?”

  “Hey.” I plaster on a polite smile. Patrick Sanders? He used to be dimply and cute. What happened?

  “I thought that was you. Holy shit, girl, what are you doing here?” He smiles, showing nicotine-stained teeth.

  “School, my dad’s business…stuff.” My mom died, so I came to collect her things. “How’ve you been?”

  “Not bad, not bad.” He ogles my boobs more than my face. “Anyway…”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Yeah, anyway.” I catch a glimpse of Bram, who’s making his way toward us. Save me. Bram sneaks up behind him, puts his arm around my shoulders. “Sanderrrsss, my friend. You remember Mica, right?” Bram’s easygoing smile and direct eye contact are both refreshing and a relief.

  “Of course, we were just talking,” I say.

  “Getting reacquainted. That’s awesome.” He focuses back on Patrick. “And you, you’re coming to HollowEve this year, right?”

  “Hell, yeah, buddy, wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

  “Great, so you’re helping us this Friday with decorations?” He vice-grips Sanders’s shoulders. “We need an extra pair of hands.”

  “Hmm, that I can’t promise you, sir,” Sanders mutters. “But I’ll try.”

  “All right, man.”

  “Take it easy. Bye, Burgos.” Patrick’s lecherous gaze lingers on me one last time before he rounds the corner and chains his bicycle.

  I let out a breath. “Now that was a blast from the past. He didn’t seem too happy to see me, either.”

  “He’s an idiot.” Bram greets more friends as they walk by. A whole group of seniors stares at me. “Look, some people are going to feel weird about seeing you again, that’s all. You can’t let it get to you. You know how this town is. Ready?” He offers me his arm. I take it, aware of how risky this move might be in front of the whole school.

  Walking to class, I’m aware, more than ever, of the whispers behind my back, and I don’t mean ghost voices. “Why don’t you feel weird to see me again, the way they do?” I ask, looking away any time a pair of familiar
eyes meets mine.

  “You want me to feel weird?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “No, I appreciate that you don’t, believe me.”

  “Hey, I never cared what people thought of you. Why should I care now? You’re still my friend, right?” He gives me a side-glance, his way of testing the waters.

  I just smile. He was my best friend once upon a time, but high school’s a whole different animal. Going against the grain by being seen with me could be a fatal flaw, especially in light of recent rumors at Historic Hudson and the fact that somewhere in these halls, his ex-girlfriend, Lacy, lingers. “Aren’t you scared people will see you with the town weirdo’s daughter and start judging you, too?”

  He stops cold and turns to me. “Mica, have I ever been scared of attention?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Exactly.” He tugs me along. “I mean, sure, I know a few people who’ll think I’m crazy for talking to you after the stuff your mom claimed. But I don’t give a shit. To me, there’s only one thing wrong with this…” He lifts his arm slightly to show me my arm linked through his.

  “Which is?” I ask.

  He leads me through the crowds, and I can feel his hesitation. “Nothing.”

  “No, tell me.”

  “Nah, you’ll take it the wrong way.”

  “Bram, please? Just tell me.”

  He sighs and shrugs. “We’re only friends.”

  “And?”

  His eyebrows slope slightly, his expression conflicted. His deep brown eyes kill me. “That’s what’s wrong.”

  Oh. I stare at him. Yeah, see, this makes me feel all sorts of indecision. On one hand, he’s turned into quite the popular, hot man on campus. On the other hand, I didn’t come back to complicate my life, more like simplify it. “Bram.” I shake my head, breaking eye contact with him. “You know I can’t start anything with you. I won’t be staying long. I’ll be leaving soon.”

  “I know. Why do you think I haven’t said anything? You have a habit of leaving.” His tone is dabbed with the tiniest bit of resentment. He high-fives and fist-bumps a few more people, as I slowly pull my arm out of his. Last thing I need right now are more guilt trips.

  “Bram, I really appreciate you picking me up from the train station, taking me shopping, escorting me around school, but you don’t have to. I’m a big girl and can handle everything on my own. I mean, if it’s going to mess with your reputation…”

  “That’s not why I’m being nice, Mica.”

  “Then, why are you being nice?”

  “Do you think anybody in this whole school has ever seen me in my Spider-Man undies like you have? I mean, come on, dude.” He scoffs.

  I laugh. “I remember those. They had this blue waistband and pocket thingy in the front for your—”

  “Ah, shit.” His voice lowers as he stares ahead. I follow his gaze down the hall to see what interrupted him. The crowd ahead of us parts like the Red Sea, allowing us a view of a pretty girl with long brown hair, talking to another girl. She looks up at us. “Great,” Bram mutters.

  “Let me guess. Lacy?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Are you gonna talk to her? I’ll just go. I really don’t want to be in the mid—”

  “No, stay with me. Keep moving.” He makes a beeline for the stairs without acknowledging her. I almost feel sorry for the girl, the way he won’t even stop for her. Following him, I give the girl a sorry smile to show I mean her no harm. Last thing I came back to Sleepy Hollow for was more drama. “Watch, I’m gonna get a text any minute now.”

  Bram climbs the stairs two at a time, now that we only have one minute left to get to class, and I do my best to keep up with him. Sure enough, Bram’s phone chimes, and he shows me a text from Lacy:

  You left me for that?

  “See?”

  What?! Screw feeling sorry for her. “What are you going to tell her?”

  “Not responding. There’s plenty of other guys in town.” He turns down a long hall.

  “Which reminds me, do you know a guy named Dane? Super tall, skinny?”

  “Dane what?”

  “No idea, but he drives a blue Eclipse.”

  “Didn’t you mention a blue Eclipse the other night?”

  “Yes, at the train station. He’s older, maybe in college. He stopped by my mom’s house while I was there yesterday. I think he’s looking to buy it.”

  “You went by your mom’s?” Bram’s eyes widen.

  “I said I was going to. Remember?”

  “Yeah, but I thought you’d try and get the key first. How’d you get in?”

  “I didn’t. I never made it in. I went to visit Betty Anne, but she wasn’t home, and that’s when I ran into that Dane guy.”

  “Wow.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry to say it, Mica, but your old place looks desolate. I drove by there not too long after…you know. It looks haunted.”

  Haunted is a bit of a stretch, but I agree the house needs some serious TLC. “I know.” I don’t mention the visions I had. Considering he still pokes fun at my hearing voices, I doubt he’s ready to hear about full-blown hallucinations.

  “Whatever happened to her cat?” he asks.

  I wince. “Oh, about that? Coconut needs a place to stay, and Nina has these really bad allergies…”

  “No. Come on, Mica. Don’t do this to me, dude.”

  “Please? I promised her I’d be back for her.”

  “You made a promise to a cat?” He runs down one last hallway. “Look, I’m fine with the fur ball, but I have to ask Jonathan. It’s his apartment. If he says yes, I’ll give you a key, but you take care of her every day. Got it?”

  “Thank you!” I do a little skip that makes him laugh.

  “In here.” He opens a door to let me in first. The class is full, and there doesn’t seem to be any teacher to care that we’re late. We sit near the back, where I watch Bram greet and clasp hands with at least half the people in the room. Still everybody’s main man.

  The bell rings, and a round man with a trimmed brown beard, wearing a brown polo shirt and pants, walks in. He looks like a baked potato with a cane limping through the aisle. He scans the room and notices me right away like a heat-recognition robot. I’ve seen him before, talking to my mom at Sunnyside years ago. He nods at me. I do my best to blend in with my plastic orange chair.

  “Good morning, class,” he says, out of breath.

  Bram leans back and whispers. “Doc Tanner.”

  “I gathered.”

  Dr. Tanner sets down a stack of papers on his desk and turns to the whiteboard, no taking of attendance, no introduction of the subject. AMERICA’S FIRST MAN OF LETTERS, he writes in purple marker. Doesn’t waste time starting lessons, does he? “In the spirit of the season, anyone know who this is?”

  A few students raise their hands. Bram grins over his shoulder at me.

  Yes, my great-great-great-great-uncle, or so Mami fantasized. Maybe if my mother hadn’t tried so hard to belong to the old Hollow families, they wouldn’t have snubbed her so maliciously.

  “Annette.” Dr. Tanner points a fat finger at a brunette sitting in the first row.

  “Washington Irving?”

  Dr. Tanner recoils. “You have to ask? Everyone in this room should know this without the least bit of doubt. Our town’s reputation, economy, even your parents’ livelihood, all depend on this one person, so say it again…like you mean it!”

  “Washington Irving!” Annette cries a little louder, giggling.

  “Better.” He smiles. “But did you know that Irving wrote more than just ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’? He penned massive biographies about Christopher Columbus, Muhammad, and George Washington, his namesake, only to be remembered for a bunch of characters he felt were silly.”

  Well, he got that right. Irving felt himself to be a greater writer than the stories he was famous for. I lean forward. “And I know exactly which shelf those books sit on in his study,” I whisper in Bram
’s ear.

  “Unless your mother moved them.”

  I dig a knuckle into his back. What does he mean by that?

  The teacher puts a heavy hand on the desk to steady himself. “He was an American hero, yet he lived most of his life outside the U.S., served as ambassador to Spain, traveled the unfathomable frontier of the American West…fascinating fellow, famous for good reason.”

  Ah, the perfect refresher to prep me for Yale. I love the sound of Dr. Tanner’s voice and the fact that I’ll be acing this class. Having spent my life listening to my mother give tours about Irving’s home has its perks.

  “Yes?” Dr. Tanner says.

  I look up to see a guy in the middle of class holding up his hand. “Is it true that a journal of his was stolen from the Engers’ library?”

  My ears perk up. Slowly, I put my pen down.

  The teacher cocks his head and shakes as though suppressing silent laughter. “You mean from the private collection at the Historic Hudson Library?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “Eric, stolen…” Dr. Tanner clears his throat. “Is a harsh word, isn’t it?”

  I whisper in Bram’s ear. “Is that what Jonathan was talking about the other day?”

  Bram’s face turns a hair, a shh at his lips. Ugh!

  Dr. Tanner goes on. “Rumors are worthless without evidence, which is why I’ve brought in an expert on the subject, so good timing, Eric, good timing.” Taking a quick survey of how many students there are, he passes out a stack of stapled work packets. “As you get your October unit, I’d like to introduce you to our new student teacher…”

  I scan the room, not seeing anyone else who fits the description of a teacher.

  “Whenever he gets here,” Doc adds. “He’s studying at Harvard, working on a thesis about the lives of America’s earliest influential writers. This week, he’ll be teaching the nineteenth century unit, while I sit on my rear and read the Times. If you have any questions, ask him. If you have any food to share, give it to me.” Chuckles sound throughout the room.